Lauren
twisted one corner of her lips hinted there must be something more.
“What?” Gracie asked. “Tell me.”
“It’s awful and I shouldn’t.”
“Tell me, Lauren.”
Devlin’s cousin sighed. “I just know what my mom always told me. When Dev was born, Michelle thought it was
cute the baby came on Halloween, but later, when she’d be drinking heavy,
sometimes she would say horrible things to him.”
Anger sharpened her tone as
Gracie asked, “Like what?”
“Well, if Robert had been ornery
for any reason, teased his mom, or played a trick on her, Aunt Michelle would
say he had the devil in him. She did it
all the time, but when she got toasted, she’d say maybe he was the devil, just
like his dad.”
Understanding dawned through her
growing rage. “And let me guess,” Gracie said. “I bet his dad was named Robert,
too. It must be why he doesn’t want to
be called by his name.”
“Exactly. Poor Aunt Michelle had a lot of issues. Sober, she wasn’t a bad mom, not
really, but it never lasted. My mom
always tried to protect Devlin when she could, but unless he’d lived with us,
she couldn’t. As long as she was alive,
his grandmother did what she could. Until Michelle died, my mom was one of the
few people Robert would let get close, but on the day of the funeral, they got
into a fight.”
“Why?”
“Robert drank a lot himself when
he first got home from Iraq,” Lauren said, visibly upset. “My mom said
something about it, begged him not to be like his mother. He got mad and wouldn’t speak to her. She forgave him a long time ago, almost as
soon as it happened, but I think he’s afraid she might reject him so he stays
away. He’s had a rough time all his
life. Now you understand all the more
why I’m so happy for him to be with you, I bet.”
Gracie did. She also saw with a deeper clarity what made
Devlin the way he was. Iraq did a number
on him, sure, but some of the emotional damage happened much earlier. No wonder Devlin hated pity and why he’d had
trouble knowing the difference between it and empathy. His mother’s death must’ve ravaged him, but
with more guilt than grief.
“Thank you for telling me all of
it,” she told Lauren. “I won’t say anything to Dev, I promise, but it helps me
to understand him more. He told me they
called him Devil in Iraq to explain the horns on his motorcycle helmet and the
mirror.”
Lauren grasped her hand for a
moment. “They did and I don’t think anyone knew he’d been called it
before. I don’t have any idea what
happened to him in Iraq, but it had to be terrible. Despite his mom’s drunken cruelty, Devlin
went into the Marines a different man, happier, more confident. He came home different. I’m afraid having another person or group use
the same nickname wounded him again.”
“I’m sure it did,” Gracie
said. Inwardly, she vowed no one would ever hurt him
so deeply again, not if she could help it. And if she could, she’d restore joy to the day he was born.
Although Halloween fell on a
weekday, Gracie skipped class, a rarity for her, and took the day off at
work. She begged the car from Devlin the
night before and without even asking why, he handed her the keys. Although he acted disappointed, Gracie didn’t
spend the night, but headed home instead. He’d get over it, she rationalized, and when he learned what she planned
to do on his birthday, he’d understand.
On the 31 st , despite
the weather, Gracie rose early. She
finished packing up everything in her apartment and carried out her boxes,
bags, and clothes on hangers to Devlin’s Ford. Then she spent an hour scrubbing the place until it sparkled. After it met her satisfaction, Gracie headed
downstairs to turn in her key to the landlord. Once he inspected it, he forked over her fifty dollar cleaning deposit,
grunted how sorry he was to lose her as a renter, and hung a
twisted one corner of her lips hinted there must be something more.
“What?” Gracie asked. “Tell me.”
“It’s awful and I shouldn’t.”
“Tell me, Lauren.”
Devlin’s cousin sighed. “I just know what my mom always told me. When Dev was born, Michelle thought it was
cute the baby came on Halloween, but later, when she’d be drinking heavy,
sometimes she would say horrible things to him.”
Anger sharpened her tone as
Gracie asked, “Like what?”
“Well, if Robert had been ornery
for any reason, teased his mom, or played a trick on her, Aunt Michelle would
say he had the devil in him. She did it
all the time, but when she got toasted, she’d say maybe he was the devil, just
like his dad.”
Understanding dawned through her
growing rage. “And let me guess,” Gracie said. “I bet his dad was named Robert,
too. It must be why he doesn’t want to
be called by his name.”
“Exactly. Poor Aunt Michelle had a lot of issues. Sober, she wasn’t a bad mom, not
really, but it never lasted. My mom
always tried to protect Devlin when she could, but unless he’d lived with us,
she couldn’t. As long as she was alive,
his grandmother did what she could. Until Michelle died, my mom was one of the
few people Robert would let get close, but on the day of the funeral, they got
into a fight.”
“Why?”
“Robert drank a lot himself when
he first got home from Iraq,” Lauren said, visibly upset. “My mom said
something about it, begged him not to be like his mother. He got mad and wouldn’t speak to her. She forgave him a long time ago, almost as
soon as it happened, but I think he’s afraid she might reject him so he stays
away. He’s had a rough time all his
life. Now you understand all the more
why I’m so happy for him to be with you, I bet.”
Gracie did. She also saw with a deeper clarity what made
Devlin the way he was. Iraq did a number
on him, sure, but some of the emotional damage happened much earlier. No wonder Devlin hated pity and why he’d had
trouble knowing the difference between it and empathy. His mother’s death must’ve ravaged him, but
with more guilt than grief.
“Thank you for telling me all of
it,” she told Lauren. “I won’t say anything to Dev, I promise, but it helps me
to understand him more. He told me they
called him Devil in Iraq to explain the horns on his motorcycle helmet and the
mirror.”
Lauren grasped her hand for a
moment. “They did and I don’t think anyone knew he’d been called it
before. I don’t have any idea what
happened to him in Iraq, but it had to be terrible. Despite his mom’s drunken cruelty, Devlin
went into the Marines a different man, happier, more confident. He came home different. I’m afraid having another person or group use
the same nickname wounded him again.”
“I’m sure it did,” Gracie
said. Inwardly, she vowed no one would ever hurt him
so deeply again, not if she could help it. And if she could, she’d restore joy to the day he was born.
Although Halloween fell on a
weekday, Gracie skipped class, a rarity for her, and took the day off at
work. She begged the car from Devlin the
night before and without even asking why, he handed her the keys. Although he acted disappointed, Gracie didn’t
spend the night, but headed home instead. He’d get over it, she rationalized, and when he learned what she planned
to do on his birthday, he’d understand.
On the 31 st , despite
the weather, Gracie rose early. She
finished packing up everything in her apartment and carried out her boxes,
bags, and clothes on hangers to Devlin’s Ford. Then she spent an hour scrubbing the place until it sparkled. After it met her satisfaction, Gracie headed
downstairs to turn in her key to the landlord. Once he inspected it, he forked over her fifty dollar cleaning deposit,
grunted how sorry he was to lose her as a renter, and hung a
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